Technicolor
by J. Peterson
Summary: It was supposed to be silly and stupid; something they could privately joke about in twenty years when they were both married and had families of their own and only saw each other on the holidays. Elsanna, mAU, icest.


**Disclaimer:  
**_Frozen_ and all characters belong to Disney. No profit made, no infringement intended.

**Warnings:  
**Icest, mild (in my opinion) angst.

**Technicolor**

* * *

There were moments in every life, Elsa knew, that ended up redefining who a person was. Some of them were overt; massive, painful, like the death of a loved one or a critical injury. Others were far more subtle; the first interaction with someone who'd become the cornerstone of your life, a scent that triggered a long-forgotten memory or a realization that forever altered the way you viewed the world – or yourself.

It wasn't unlike what happened when she put the finishing touches of light and shadow on a structural sketch, she supposed; that instant when 2D became 3D through a splash of color on something that had previously been a black-and-white product of her own imagination, but was now – somehow – something more than that. Something _real_ and alive, even only on paper.

But God, she'd never expected to have a moment like that during a game of _Spin the Bottle_, of all things, and especially not at a college party that she'd only agreed to attend because Anna had practically begged her to. But Anna was a freshman, and much more sociable than Elsa herself, besides. Anna wanted to experience _everything_ about college; to be young and occasionally stupid, where Elsa readily admitted to having not only a five-year-plan, but a ten-, twenty- and thirty- one, as well. She planned because that was her thing as much as Anna's sunny smile and incessant optimism was her sister's, and for Elsa, college was little more than a means to an end.

Her world was perhaps, she'd agreed some time ago, a little dull – muted shades of gray to Anna's technicolor life – but it served her well and she was comfortable in it. Still, she'd never been able to say no when faced with that _look_ that her little sister had surely practiced for hours in front of her mirror while they'd still been children. As ever, she'd crumbled like a house of cards and been thoroughly unable to feel bad about putting off her projects simply because Anna had been so incredibly _happy_. She'd even enjoyed the party and found several things to like about the company of Anna's friends, though she _had_ groaned when someone (either Flynn or Kristoff) had suggested that infernal game.

"I thought people were supposed to leave that kind of thing behind in high school," she'd pointed out, to a response of relatively sober snickers and halfway sheepish grins.

"Aw, come on, Elsa!" Anna had tugged on her hand with a pout. "Think of it as... a walk down memory lane!"

Elsa had rolled her eyes. "By all of two steps, for most of us," she'd commented dryly, since Anna's friends were – after all – Anna's _age_, and she was reasonably sure that she was the only senior there. And people had laughed at her joke and Rapunzel in particular had cheerfully agreed with her, and then the game had commenced all the same and Elsa had actually ended up enjoying herself because the bottle never pointed to her anyway.

Until Anna was the one to spin it, and then her heart, for some reason, immediately relocated to her throat. Chiefly because Anna was unconcernedly crawling across the little circle they were sat in, and Elsa was vaguely aware of the goading and the hooting in the background, even over the sound of her own blood rushing in her ears.

"Wha- whoa!" She hurriedly placed her hands on Anna's shoulders when her sister's face was suddenly _way_ too close, and pushed her back a little. "Isn't this weird? We're _sisters_," she pointed out, as if Anna would have somehow forgotten that over the course of the evening. So the startled, little laugh she got in response really wasn't all that surprising.

"I'm glad you noticed," Anna teased, and poked the tip of her tongue out through her grin. "I'd hate to think the past eighteen or so years were the result of some elaborate daydream." Her expression sobered a little then, and Elsa decided that was probably because her own was still doubtful. "It's just a kiss, Els," she assured softly, with the gentle touch of a warm hand to Elsa's elbow. "It doesn't mean anything, y'know? Besides," she then added in a louder tone. "Better me than one of these slobberhounds."

"Hey!" in chorus, from several people who apparently felt offended by that.

"Oops," Anna murmured, and let her eyes widen in a display of innocence that in no way hid the devilish twinkle in her eyes. "Hit a nerve, I guess," she whispered, and gave Elsa one of those crooked grins of hers while the small crowd around them descended into friendly bickering about each other's respective kissing abilities.

Which, Elsa realized with a small start, effectively took the attention away from the two of them, and when Anna sent her a wink, she made a mental note to never underestimate her sister.

"You did that on purpose," she observed.

"Yup," was the amused agreement, and Elsa had to lean back on her hands when Anna's settled on her thighs for support. "You never did like being the center of attention," she continued softly as their foreheads touched, with a smile that they were too close for Elsa to see on her lips, though it showed in her eyes. "Okay?"

Elsa knew what she was asking, and while there were alarm bells going off in her head and she could feel more than hear the sound of her own nails dragging across the carpet beneath her hands, she still, somehow, ended up nodding. "... okay."

She should have said no, some corner of her mind screeched when Anna's warm breath brushed against her mouth. _She_ _should have said no_, because when their lips met, Anna's were too soft, too sweet against her own, and way, _way_ too gentle and coaxing and _she was kissing her sister_ and that was at most supposed to be _mildly pleasant_. This glide of lip against lip wasn't meant to make her dig her fingers into the carpet; wasn't meant to make her eyes slip shut and her breath leave her lungs in a sigh. It was supposed to be silly and stupid and something they could privately joke about in twenty years when they were both married and had families of their own and only saw each other on the holidays.

Instead, it woke her as if from a long dream. The faintest touch of Anna's tongue made her entire body burn; made her snap for breath and part her lips, and made her have to frantically bite back a moan when their kiss deepened, because Anna's hand was _scorching_ on her waist and she smelled of everything that was warmth and light and _color_ and it _wasn't supposed to be like this._ Not with Anna, _oh, please, God, no – not with Anna_.

"See?" Anna grinned when they broke apart, and placed a light peck to her cheek before sitting back on her haunches. "That wasn't so bad, right?"

Elsa tried for a smile that probably ended up more as a grimace, because Anna snickered and then shoved Kristoff out of the way before sitting down next to her and leaning comfortably against her side.

_It doesn't mean anything, y'know?_

And it shouldn't have. Only it _did_, and Elsa forced herself to focus on the party, on the sounds of laughter and groans when the game was forgotten and replaced with a contest about who could tell the worst joke; on anything that wasn't the faint press of her sister's knee against her own, the subtle scent of Anna's skin or in any other way related to that one, perfect moment.

When everything went technicolor.


End file.
